


Writer dabbles: The trikey edition

by theotherdesanta



Series: Disaster boyfriend dabbles [1]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Boyfriends, Cuties, Fluff, GTA, Hugs, Kisses, M/M, Occasional, Smut, big time smut, hubbies, losing sleep, low time smut, too pure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7707928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotherdesanta/pseuds/theotherdesanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short/occasionally long, random fanwork ranging from needlessly fluffy to uncomfortable blush-inducing: </p>
<p>See Michael and Trevor go through random moments in their lives when normality is one of the small pleasures they experience as dysfunctional life partners.<br/>Strife, romance, hatred and heartache galore!<br/>And not to forget good old holiday feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off: I'm sorry.  
> Secondly: I'm very sorry.  
> Thirdly: Don't pretend you don't love some fluff because we all do, it's natural. Especially when it comes to disgusting middle aged bank robbers. 
> 
> Okay, important announcement is that there will be a delay in posting of Triple B, I cannot apologise enough or stress how hard it is for me not to write but my sister is off work for another week and we are spending it as a family since her job takes up a shit load of her time, so I'm sorry to fans of that piece, it will return shortly, just hang in there, the wait will be worth it! 
> 
> In other news, I have a bunch of upcoming fanfiction set to be written and released within the next number of months: A dark Michael series revolving around his own mental illness and how it puts a shroud over what he believes is the truth and over what Michael believes is his life.
> 
> This is still on the table as to whether or not it's gonna be written, but I pretty much have it all planned out so, you know. and don't think this one's gonna be all sunshine and puppies like the first installment, cus it ain't: A baby Trevor story, however, he does not suffer injury, he just does what we know Trevor to do a lot and...strongly misinterpret something he is told before...taking such to disturbing extremes. A session with a therapist has him turning "express your feelings, defrost all that trauma and thaw, let it out" into "Michael and Amanda are your new Mommy and Daddy, time to start over, good luck". And we know Trevor, it ain't gonna be hugs and trips to the beach. 
> 
> The third fic set to be posted will be a fluff involving Michael losing his hearing, either permanently or for a short time and Trevor being cute and helping him. 
> 
> the Forth is something I've already mentioned, an OC fic that is an updated version of one I wrote in 2014/early 2015, please note this fic will have shoutouts to my very good friends and some chapters may even be dedicated to them, so for some of the old crew in the gta fandom, if you see a certain name or description, you might just be seeing your favourite blogger in there. Mine too but hopefully she doesn't read my fanfiction and will never know (Shush!) 
> 
> Fifth and close to last is something I've been wanting to hit home on for a while...Michael's mother. We hear about Trevor's so why not Michaels: Receiving word his mother's cancer has returned and is terminal, Michael flies home to say his goodbyes. For all the AHS fans out there, myself included, His Momma is gonna be played by Jessica Lange. Lets face it, she's the only woman able to strike fear in Michael De Santa's very sole. heavy hearted comedy with family feels and some trikey feels since Trevor sneaks along and helps his buddy through this terrible time. 
> 
> And last but not least, my ultimate fav out of everything...THE YANKTON ESCAPE! (I made a pinterest board just for this idea. Bite me): If you remember my old ideas, you remember this: When David Norton has to take action against the unholy trio the crew split and leave LS. Franklin safely nestled away in new york, Michael and Trevor decide to go back to their old stomping ground, with no family tying either of them down it's straight to North Yankton to relive some of their youth. Except nothing goes to plan and during a couple's argument Trevor goes to a bar, gets drunk, steals a car and accidentally steals a baby which he and Michael have to take care of while searching for her parents, at the same time...dodging the feds. 
> 
> One last time, sorry, not just for the delay but the size of this note but like I said, I don't have social media and skype is reserved.  
> If anybody wants to chat feel free to contact me via the comments, or if we get to know each other, skype, and don't act like you didn't hear that part in Trevors voice.  
> As always, i wanna thank everyone for the support and love and wanting of my shitty fanfiction, I hope you enjoy my future work and cry with me when it's posted. 
> 
> And answering a question I got, again, sorry, no social media, yes I still do Michael RP's and vocals, and yes I still buy clothes based on his--I HAVE A DISEASE! It's called "The Michael" very infectious, ruins countless lives. 
> 
> Okay goodnight/goodmorning, I love you all, enjoy the fic!

Manicured fingernails clawed desperately into the ratty bedsheets underneath them, he'd never experienced this sort of complete, unadulterated pleasure before. To be so impossibly full and lust fuelled threatened to drive him mad as the skinnier, better-constructed male rutted viciously against Michael's spasming thighs. God, he was a different person during sex, he couldn't believe how much so as his voice rose countless octaves and broke from the strain of impending orgasms coursing through his shattered anatomy. Christ, T knew EXACTLY where to aim his dick whenever it came to fucking the other's brains out. He always found the sweet spot deep within that left Mike a shivering, howling mess at the end of their physical union. He knew the best methods to unravel his lover. He did. Because that man needed to prove that as a Philips...Michael could have it all.  
The sex. The money. The power. Even on his back and legs high, Michael could still have all the power he craved, more in fact. Get that ass pounded and still bark orders like a military general.  
“Fuck, T” Brilliantly white teeth dug into a meaty upper arm, face contorted to appear riddled in uncontrollable agony but the truth was Michael simply couldn't bring himself to cry out. He hissed the sentence through gritted teeth, whimpering each time his stomach gave a delighted flop at the continuous sensation of another man's cock wreaking havoc on his insides.  
The fat one put all that restraint into muffling the whine traveling fast up his damaged windpipe, he was close and god as his witness was he not going to fall into the pattern of melting upon the pillows and letting his mouth hang open and careless, ecstasy fuelled mutterings be the death of his dignity.  
“Ooohhhh gawd!” However in the case of Michael De Santa...it was easier said than done. “Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes, oh my gawd, Trevor!” Especially in the throes of multiple climaxes and a heavy-handed meth junkie. “Ri-right there, baby. Fuck! I'm gonna explode” The older male purposefully arched his spine to obtain that perfect angle at which T could easily collide mercilessly into his ruined prostate. Michael's sweaty palm stuttered over the mattress searching for a pillow to disguise his beet red complexion. It was too far passed the point to turn back and force a couple of masculine grunts, hell he could hardly breathe as it was.  
He settled for pressing his face into the duck feather and clutching onto it as if the object were a fucking life raft about to sail him straight off a deserted island and to the nearest Hawaiian skin joint serving free alcohol.  
Michael's body tensed around the throbbing muscle, wet, fiery and destined to knock the bastard down several hundred notches. “Aghhhhhhhh!!!” The wave crashed through whatever shitty emotional barrier he'd quickly rendered up to protect himself from the internal stampede of white hot fluffiness he was sure was love. That and semen. Fuck, Trevor hadn't even touched his dick and Michael was still left reciting declarations of admiration and great amounts of romantic affection for him. It was beautiful. All that venomous chub wriggling back into his crotch, sucking every last drop of sex Trevor had left and then flopping onto the bed like a beached whale too tired to swim the rest of the journey to its pod, though a happily sated beached whale content in never seeing its family again.  
He couldn't see but Michael wore that stupid grin again, the one that somehow always managed to creep up after sexual entanglements that involved Trev abusing his ass most of the night.  
It was stupid and ugly and the balding junkie abhorred it.  
But understanding he'd put it there lightened the mood threatening to interrupt Michael's tranquil post fuck slumber.  
T shook his head, stare boring into the line of cum cascading down his lover's thigh until he decided to go wash himself off. No point standing around. Michael would keep quiet for a good nine hours from now, maybe more, unless he awoke, hoping for seconds, then he'd be out pretty much the entire day.  
“Eh, T?” A small half snore disturbed the constant hum of the running faucet. Trevor poked his head around the doorframe and saw Michael draped over the edge of the bed like some greek fuckin' goddess. Ugly adorable mug on a pillow, arm tucked safely beneath it, other arm dangling off but not appearing to bother him in any way.  
“Need somethin', sugar? A towel? Coffee? My dick in your ear?” The mock question created an audible giggle.  
His eyes sparkled as Michael spoke, his tone so innocent the second man almost didn't believe it came out of the gaping maw he called a mouth.  
“When you come back...could yah bring me another blanket” Jiminy Christmas, there were two things you'd never believe seeing in this world. 1: goldfish wearing fedoras. 2: Michael De Santa being genuinely innocent. The image sent T whipping back into the bathroom and hiding out there until he was sure his boyfriend had fallen asleep. After that, he tiptoed across the floor, carrying with him the blanket Mike had asked for.  
Gently as he could T unfolded it and placed the sheet over the others snoozing form before getting into bed and comfortable enough to sleep. It didn't come as fast as it had for Michael, but when it did, T instinctively wriggled his body closer to the man next to him, falling into a bout of grumbling snores and soft “Mew”'s. He didn't mind that Mikey had all the covers and he was stuck lying there in just his not so tighty and not so whitey's. T was used to being cold. Sides, his dick was kept warm and snug between the blanket and Michael's ass so it wasn't all bad.  
At the crack of dawn when T had successfully gotten into a deep enough sleep the alarm let off its first wail, telling them it was time to wake the fuck up. A swift fist and satisfied growl cured the ruckus as there was no reason for the two to get up and start work today. No. Today...T figured they deserved some extra time in bed.


	2. Sentimental bathtime.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has a business meeting, he needs Trevor to come make small talk with the stupid rich people. 
> 
> Fluff ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had a sudden need to write Michael giving Trevor a bath, don't ask me why, the day started out as usual: Get up early, cook breakfast, wave my sister off to work and then as I was sitting down to lunch my brain just said "We gotta write Trevor taking a bath" And low and behold, here it is in all its terrible glory. 
> 
> Please remember I am still getting to grips with a new writing style so there's going to be some errors and spots where my head just went straight out the window. 
> 
> I hope you like it, leave comments and stuff telling me how I did and if it's good then I'll keep going, also remember this is a dabble so it's just random moments and the story has no plot whatsoever! I might even write a chapter on their really shitty wedding but that's for another day. 
> 
> Okay imma go cry in a corner and make dinner, love yah guys, Byyyeeeeee (Runs and hides)

Forever and a day had gone by since the last event where he could remember the condo having bustled with casual, enthusiastic chattering, come to think of it, had they ever experienced a time like that? Just the two of them? Acting comfortable and rational to a moment which they could just be themselves to each other? Michael shook the thought away amid the clatter of his hasty footfalls, smartly polished dress shoes tapping against the expensive Persian tile during his descent. 

“Alrite', I called ahead and made reservations at Louise for the seven of us, I told the guy to have some extra chairs on standby 'case Brenda and her gaggle of morons show up. Had to book that fuckin' spot overlooking the balcony cus enclosed spaces bring Reggy out in hives, exaggerates his compulsion disorder or some fuckin' bullshit---” Passing the archway and crossing the living room, Michael's gaze fell on his scruff, unshaven house mate's dirty torso. 

“Da fuck! Why ain't you dressed?!” He queried, “We need to get moving, Solomon is meeting us in an hour!” 

Trevor nonchalantly gave the crotch of his cum stained, neon peach coloured booty shorts a scratch, he blinked slow as a rumble of a reply escaped his broken lips. 

“You blind? This is my formal wear” A pair of ass hugging mesh jogging shorts and a seam ripped camouflage jacket did not strike the older thief as a respectable dinner outfit. 

Per usual he cocked an eye to peak down at the mess heavy coffee table, small plastic bags and empty lighters strewn around a dimly lit bong, Michael picked it up to examine the contents. 

“You been huffing meth again?” Disappointment could be heard within his tone, normal as the couple were trying to be, one thing he knew Trevor could never really tear his body away from was narcotics. 

“You don't huff meth” Trevor corrected, lazily point at the charred remains drifting around the container. 

Michael took a cautious sniff, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, the concoction drifting through the small glass mouth piece and drifting under his nostrils, damn, it smelt like a fucking pizzeria. 

“Is this-” he started, only to have Trevor interrupt. 

“-Trevor Philips's own personal detoxifying herb hash. A specific combination of Basil, oregano, dried rosemary and some birds eye chilli peppers for kick. Since I'm going cold turkey, Chef said It might be good taking something natural, unhampered, also somethin' that cures the detox munchies” 

“You're huffing pizza spices...” Michael sighed, returning the bong to it's spot and backtracking to his original point. 

Understanding his lover wasn't completely off his head, he again berated Trevor on his hygiene and all but commanded he go take a bath and get ready for their, well, Michael's, crucial business dinner with Solomon Richards and a number of potential wealthy movie fanatics looking to invest in their current script.

Trevor's arms entangled themselves over his chest, ankles hooked, the man questioned his presence and it's requirement at the restaurant that evening, casting a glare eerily similar to the kind Michael's daughter used to pull whenever she didn't get her own way as a teenager.

“And you call me the ignorant asshole” Michael groaned, raising a hand to massage his suddenly aching temples. “I want you there because Solomon's been selling them on the whole ' Left an unhappy marriage to pursue a lifelong fantasy of embracing my repressed homosexuality to go live with my boyfriend' thing. They really wanna meet the guy who knocked me off my pedestal” 

Trevor offered something between a tired groan and an ironic snicker. 

“Good lord” 

“What?” 

“Only you can turn somethin' meaningful into a Broadway production and the only star cast bein' you and a fuckin' mirror”   
“Hey, it got us the investment opportunity. So I exaggerated things a little bit, doesn't stop it being true” 

“Yeah, we're the living equivalent to fuckin' Cinderella and Prince charmin'” 

“Chance meet at a runway, popped a flare into some guy's head to stop 'um beating on me-” 

“Played me for a chump and then ran off with the dough, yeah, real fuckin' fairy-tail ending, pork chop” 

“But we got there” Michael bent double, leaning on the arm of the couch and peering down at the younger criminal. 

What might've been a kiss was obliterated by Trevor locking onto his partners warm gaze, returning the stare briefly and then belching in the man's face and chortling hysterically as he wrapped both arms around his own ribs. 

“Real nice, T” Michael wiped off the droplets of spittle before sulking out of the living room, telling himself not to go into the kitchen to retrieve the emergency pistol and shoot nine rounds into Trevor's dick. 

Trying to drown out the others manic laughter, he practically leapt up the staircase, taking the steps three at a time and then moving straight into the condo's bathroom adjacent to them, the room usually kept locked or sometimes used for storing snack packs whenever Michael needed something other than kale and didn't want anyone to know he actually enjoyed the shitty little animal crackers. 

He turned the faucet and quickly scanned the counter for some bath soap, plucking a half open bottle left beside a dried out tub of Vaseline, he grimaced and squeezed a liberal dose into the running water before putting it down and rolling his sleeves over those meaty forearms, thankful he hadn't attached the cufflinks yet. 

Once Michael deemed the bath to be full enough to cover every inch of his boyfriends grubby skin, he tried to think of a strategy that would actually get the man upstairs and into the tub, it didn't really matter if he took his clothes off or not, long as he was in the bubbly liquid, Michael could work from there. 

He wasn't stupid enough to wander back into the living room, no shit Trevor would've heard the tap running and decided to high-tail it to another part of the house, perhaps squeeze himself into a cupboard and pretend to be one of the jars of mustard, he wasn't sure, but what Michael did know was...Philips wouldn't be going in that bathtub without a fight. 

“Ho-kay, now for the hard part” Michael rested his face in one of his palms, thinking how to go about the task, nothing, nothing other than forcibly dragging the other or heaving him up on Michael's shoulder, not the damaged one, of course, it was too late for games, all he wanted to do was go to that fucking restaurant, go eat something gourmet for the first time in five months and impress the rich fucks about to sign their money away to a movie that probably wouldn't make anything near as much back as they had put into the production of it. 

“Trev--” Praying on the latter, Michael scurried to find his partner who was, surprisingly, in the exact same spot he'd left him in, spread across the couch wearing the bare minimal and flipping through the so many TV channels they had on the big screen. 

“That's the name momma gave me” he said casually. 

“Trevor” Michael forced himself to sound more intimidating than he felt he could be at that moment. “I went to the trouble of runnin' you a bath, now I want you to get upstairs and dunk your lazy good for nothin' ass in it. You got 30 minutes” 

The serial killer smirked “And if I refuse” 

“That ain't an option” The older one drawled “Move. I ain't askin', I'm tellin' you. Move” 

“Yeah” T stretched himself out amongst the cushions and furry blankets. “I think I'mma stay here and let you explain to those money-scented twats why you're all alone tonight, well, not completely, you still got that sugar daddy of yours with yah” 

The smirk Trevor plastered on his face got the others blood boiling just beneath the surface, he knew why Trevor was doing it, he didn't want to go so that meant he was going to pull every trick in the book to ensure that didn't happen. 

“Do I gotta drag you?” Michael didn't care, not that night, not any other in the foreseeable future, Trevor wouldn't win even if his damned life depended on it. 

“Cute to see you try, sugar--” In one swift movement Michael had shot forward, shoved his arms under Trevor's body and heaved. “EY! LET ME DOWN, YOU FAT FUCK!” 

Trevor had spoken way too soon, not realising the line cross in which something had clearly snapped and given Michael the strength to effortlessly pry him off the couch and throw T over his shoulder before lugging him to the awaiting bath. 

Maybe it was the culmination of stress, anger, anxiety and the fact they needed to be on the road in such a short space of time, not just that but the idea of Solomon's face when Michael arrived late, just because Trevor didn't care, didn't mean he could say the same for his lover. 

“You wanna go in head or ass first?” Michael's voice bounced off the walls, his grip unrelenting, suddenly he possessed the vice-like power of a fucking snake, keeping his prey secure whilst he decided how things would play out, if he was going to strangle them to death or not, make things quick, or agonisingly slow. 

Aimlessly Trevor continued to struggle, legs flailing as his fists landed weak blows into Michael's back, he caught a glimpse of his attack in the mirror and felt a wave of embarrassment crash above him, which in turn made him all the more eager to escape. 

“Ass it is” Michael wanted to throw him in, violently and watch Trevor's skull smack against the marble rim of the circular bath, but he wasn't that cruel, instead he quickly slipped the younger male into the water and went about pulling off his rapidly dampening clothes. 

He thrashed wildly, snarling and yelling, throwing a fucking tantrum, he kicked his feet so much he threatened to splash Michael who succeeded in narrowly avoiding becoming just as soaked as Trevor had become. 

“Why can't you just be a fucking adult for once and do as I tell you?!” Michael gritted his teeth, throwing away the final item of clothing and then lowering himself onto his knees, reaching across the floor to the bathroom cabinet to fetch a sponge and some body wash. 

The water had cooled in the length of time it took to get Trevor into it, yet he felt scalding to the touch, rage causing his internal temperature to go through the roof, his eyes flashed dangerously, similar to the events where he lost all control and massacre a dozen generations of red necks in one afternoon, Michael knew he had to work steadily, not just for his own benefit but the entire vinewood area's, he wanted to attempt to soothe Trevor, yet feared it could only increase the level of tension. 

“Look, I'm sorry you gotta come tonight. When do I ever ask something like this of you, huh? I'm ain't stupid” He spoke.

There was a sigh, unsure whether he made it, or Trevor, but the chill in the air encouraged him to go on. 

“They really wanna meet you, not just because of the stories but cause...how happy you make me, I exaggerated the story, yes, but by the end, I didn't have to. I told them about you, about how we met, obviously leaving out some minor details, but after a while, it stopped being this show and tell scheme and just became natural” 

Trevor gave no indication he was listening, eyes clenched shut and nostrils flared like that of a pissed off bulls, from past experiences it seemed he was trying to calm down, focusing on the sensation of Michael working the foamy lather down his chiselled collarbones, around the slight curve of his torso, under an arm and right to the centre of his spine. 

“I don't just want you to impress them, Trevor. I wanna...show you off” Quickly as his fingers came they were gone again, rinsing themselves off and letting the bubbly sponge float above Trevor's thighs as Michael went about dolloping a blob of shampoo on his partner's thin wisps of hair. 

Trevor almost laughed, the man's authoritative demeanour abandoned in the wake of sentiment. 

“They like you far as I can tell, well, the idea of you. If you're able to get this stubborn prick to ease up on his attitude, than you must be somethin' worthwhile” Pausing momentarily, he got a water jug from under the sink and used it to pour some over Trevor's head, washing away the suds, if he's bothered paying attention Michael would've seen the other looking at him with a sideways glance. “To me, anyway”

Michael sighed again, handing Trevor a flannel to wipe his face. 

“Thanks” Was all T said, using it to buff away the weeks worth of soot, mud and various other caked on substances. 

“Hey...you're lookin' a little wet” Michael rested his arms on the side, placing his cheek on his arm and smiling cheekily

Humming a chuckle the fatter criminal watched in amusement as Trevor fought not to crack one himself, turning his head and viscously rubbing his features as not to hint that Michael's crummy joke was strangely funny. 

“Made yah laugh” 

“No you didn't” Trevor's voice was muffled by the fabric “I wretched, there's a difference” 

Michael buried his face in his light blue sleeve, looking up at Trevor with an expression close to adoration. 

“You gonna hurry up so we can hit the road?” 

Trevor hung his head, puffing out an air of defeat and feeling every part of his body relax from the therapeutic scrubbing and his boyfriends stupid attempt at solidarity. 

“...Lemme wash my dick and I'll be there. Now shut the fuck up and go fetch me a suit” 

“I know just the one!” Michael beamed, getting off his knees and darting for the bedroom. 

“Oh god”


	3. Trevor Philips: The lost boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a few hours to catch some shuteye before the big move, but somehow, Trevor always finds some reason to be awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Temm voice* HOIIIIIIIIIII
> 
> Okay, so, skipping straight to why I felt the need to do this, Blame Ruth B's "Lost Boy", because after watching the new Gta movie thing with Steven Greek God Bod Ogg, my heart was smashing against my ribcage and to wind down I had to spend most of the night downstairs, in my living room, listening to that song to calm myself down, which didn't work because all it did was give me this idea. 
> 
> BUT! It does make for one hell of an interesting headcanon.  
> This was originally going to be Michael, but the song itself made me think of Trevor to such an extreme that I just thought screw it and had Trevor be a master of the keys!  
> To be honest I take Mike for a guitar man, so maybe I'll write something about that later. 
> 
> For now, however, enjoy this fic, I have no clue when I'll be able to continue this series or my others, but I will be continuing them, so don't worry, right now it's just finding the energy and freetime. 
> 
>  
> 
> In terms to life updates: Nothing really to report other than I was finally able to do something I have never been able to so that's a good thing, and hopefully it's gonna open my life up to more of it. And next to that is personal relationship stuff with my senpai, so, two good things. 
> 
> Okay, Imma go now, and I will see you all later! 
> 
> Love you guys. 
> 
> L.M out! Piece!

Michael is careful not to interrupt the peaceful ambiance through a number of hefty slothful footfalls as his tired, worn body haunts the bottom floor of the box littered mansion. 

Then one night, as I closed my eyes  
I saw a shadow flying high  
He came to me with the sweetest smile  
Told me he wanted to talk for awhile  
He said, "Peter Pan, that's what they call me  
I promise that you'll never be lonely, " and ever since that day 

A warm, brilliant and enveloping goldish glow spills across his slippers and casts a long shape of colour upon the wall beside him, a few splotches of light creating an angelic effect on Michael's faint outline of a shadow, he is curious whether it unnerves him more than the tuneful echo of another male's within the building, accompanied by the ear pleasing notes admitted from various piano keys being artfully touched. 

I am a lost boy from Neverland  
Usually hanging out with Peter Pan  
And when we're bored we play in the woods  
Always on the run from Captain Hook  
"Run, run, lost boy, " they say to me  
Away from all of reality 

He peers beyond the archway, temporarily blinded as he sticks his head into the vacate room, spotting two items remaining unsorted amongst the clutter of labelled containers and paper wrapped fragile objects.

A bronze candle bowl, earlier used as a simple centrepiece, at last, cradling the source of flickering amber that burns brighter than Michael deems safe to have inside his house, however, the mass distorting the crackling fire's image has captured his attention and at this hour of the night, Michael's energy is severely limited and demands he choose between the immediate threat of danger or...the man sitting at the piano, the man clad in sweatpants and nothing else, his crooked, tattooed fingers drifting over the keys as if he were deciphering some sort of ancient text 

He sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe  
Believe in him and believe in me  
Together we will fly away in a cloud of green  
To your beautiful destiny  
As we soared above the town that never loved me  
I realized I finally had a family  
Soon enough we reached Neverland  
Peacefully my feet hit the sand  
And ever since that day 

To no surprise, Michael's eyes rise to meet his partner's chiseled back, silently keeping in mind the location to their one good fire extinguisher while he stares, mildly awestruck, if not by the size of the flames blooming from the bowl, then from the southern, husky drawl's which are expertly keeping in tune with the words cascading out of Trevor's lips like birdsong.

Michael has never visited a church choir in his life, yet he knows if he ever were to, nothing would compare to what he is experiencing in this moment, through the doorway of his own fucking living room, no prepubescent boy or man for that matter could match the voice tickling his ears and getting under his skin just enough to bring out the crimson in Michael's neck that signifies a blush. 

Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Mikey Darlin'  
Even Captain Hook, you are my perfect story book  
Neverland, I love you so  
You are now my home sweet home  
Forever a lost boy at last 

He doesn't realise this, but Michael is now leaning against the frame separating the hallway and the living room, nor that he is standing in the cold wearing only his heart-printed boxer shorts with Trevor's neon pink bathroom draped across his broad, quarterback shoulders. 

There is a voice within telling him to disrupt Trevor's session and coerce him back to their tiny air mattress, not wishing either of the two to be unfit for the day ahead of moving to their new place of living, a decently sized two floor home which resides in a close-knitted community of retirees and small families just starting out, they are going to be one of the few middle-aged couples there, but Lester tells them it's the safest area to reside if they want to continue as reformed members of society. 

Michael wants their neighbourly introduction to be a good one, meaning they both need to be fresh faced and ready to start the day. 

He makes another mental note to stop at the bean machine on their way to the house, if one thing is going to keep them from murdering each other and their new neighbours, it's coffee. 

Neverland is home to lost boys like me  
And lost boys like me are free  
Neverland is home to lost boys like me  
And lost boys like me are free 

Thrown off by his own inner monologue of tasks, Michael catches the last drips of the song and his lovers skilled piano playing. 

On the final note, Trevor presses his entire hand into the keys, ruining the sweet illusion he has built around himself and the room he resides in, both he and Michael wince in unison from the sharp noise the instrument lets out. 

He rises from the chair, his left shoulder eerily close to the hungry flames dancing inside the bronze bowl atop the piano. 

Trevor straightens his posture, pausing for a brief second to register the change in his environment, he whips his head around and narrowly avoids catching Michael throwing his own body back around the corner and against the wall. 

He shakes off the disturbance and tries to grab the bowl, suddenly he remembers the deadly combination of heat and metal, and swiftly moves toward the kitchen to grab himself a pair of oven mitts. 

Michael hears this and hurriedly scuffles for the staircase, he has one foot set on the second step and is readying himself to get up to his bedroom fast if Trevor suddenly decides to appear in the hallway. 

He doesn't, Trevor comes into the living room, hands shielded in two fluffy mitts which he has had to cut open a box to retrieve, but he has them and he now has the fiery bowl in his grasp and is heading for the pool that is still full of murky, piss dashed water. 

“Consider this a present from the former owners” He grunts, tossing the bowl away from him and watching it hit the surface with a satisfying splash, steam pouring into the chilly night air as the metal instantly cool under the gross looking water. 

He slips the oven mitts off and dusts his hands, priding himself on safety before turning to reenter the mansion. 

“Bedtime for you, T” The man tells himself. 

Seeing his partner return from the patio, Michael darts back to his room as quietly and as steadily as he can without letting the other know of his presence, thankfully Trevor doesn't hear him, or if he does then he sure as hell ain't said anything about it. 

Michael is on the floor and under the covers just in time to catch Trevor creeping up the staircase, making a little high pitched noise against the cold of the house as he nears the bedroom where he clearly believes his partner is asleep because he is wordless as he tugs the blanket up and slides into his space on the air mattress, turning to lie with his back against Mike's as he winds down. 

“You okay there, T?” Michael asks, smirking into his pillow like the little shit he is. 

T yawns in response, saying something along the lines of “Yeahhhh-yeah, just uh...needed to take a piss” 

“I heard a splash. You-umm, leavin' the new people somethin' to remember us by?” The fat one inquires. 

“You could say that” Trevor grumbles, nuzzling his face against the mattress as he begins to fall asleep. 

“Alrite” Michael says tiredly, following his lover into a heavy slumber which will see them missing their alarm clock in the next few hours. “Get some sleep, Tinkerbell” 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw I know the song lyrics might look a little off, I'm trying to fix the Italics on them but AO3 just doesn't wanna work with me today. 
> 
> Excuse me while I go meditate. Or masturbate....Or both.


	4. Pushover for pugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor's therapist suggests he gets out more and he winds up at a charity event for dogs needing forever homes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank T_Philips for this because without them this fic would not be.

“Take a walk, It'll do yah some good.” Trevor whines in a childishly high pitched tone, waving his head sideways as his tongue waggles passed his lips 

“Who the fuck does that cunt think he is? Oh sure, he's got a psychology degree, but does that mean he understands the concept of not letting a former criminal back onto the streets this early into their rehabilitation therapy!? The nerve of that posh twat, believing a walk can cure me of my Homicidal tendencies! I WAS BORN INTO VIOLENC--” 

Trevor's angry tirade finds itself interrupted in a flurry of blurred light and the sensation of a solid, rubberized beach sandal hitting his left cheek, steadily followed by a familiar, cigar smoke thickened voice which tells him to shut the fuck up and get more than fifty paces off their driveway before the owner closes the bedroom window and disappears back inside.

Feeling attacked, Trevor bows his head and shoves both hands into the pockets of his slacks as heavy boots begin to stomp along the rural pavement, taking him wherever the fuck it is he plans on going within this scenic little town they've called home. 

Repeatedly looking over his shoulder until the curve of the hill shrouds Trevor's house up to the roof tiles and his homemade flag moving with the winter breeze: The two floor, blue craftsman abode with the white picket fence and small, hill-ish front lawn now nothing but a mound of concrete and burnt orange leaves as he continues further with the journey bestowed upon him by his probation officer and the redundant man in the lavender suit who thinks he knows Trevor inside from out: How he ticks, how the psychopath works on a regular day to day basis in any and all situations and social events, T loathes him, beyond the fiery passion he's loathed anyone before the therapist and perhaps even his own snake of a boyfriend, however, those relationships always help some modicum of respect, this one...deserves anything but. 

Reminding himself to pop three rounds in the smug, egotistical, neat freak of a bastard during their next session, T mindlessly begins to drag himself to the neighbouring park some yards away, honing in on the joyous, entertained laughter and conversations of people twice his age as he rounds the first of six corners, a strange path yet he doesn't question it whilst his nose picks up the scent of barbequed meats, freshly sawed wood, overly sugared confectionaries, churned up leaves and....moist dog? 

Managing a peek through the pile of sawn logs and winter greenery Trevor spies a bustling community through the steel bars, people of all ages clad in their warmest seasonal coats and hats, running around and mingling with friends, dotted around seven randomly placed grills throughout the park, chatting to each other whilst children play with their siblings, or the one parent with enough patience and affection to smile throughout an endless round of catch a monster that doesn't exist, or their own child after they've ingested too much cotton candy from the suspicious looking vendor nestled in the right-hand corner of the play area. 

Trevor moves his eyes across the sea of people to trail the sound of repetitive barking, grimacing to himself as he spots a table sporting the banner 'Adopt A Pupper: Rilington Charity event helping canines find a forever home', he can already feel himself regretting the decision to not turn around and go back inside his house clutching the sandel, using the assault as an excuse to slap his partner over the ass and stay out of the general public for one more day and giving this bullshit money grabbing scheme time to pack up and hit the road. 

Surrounding the fountain is a long table occupied by three chairs, beside the table and winding around the park decoration are a variety of cages differing in shapes, colors, and sizes, each holding a certain canine or number of them. 

“Well howdy, Neighbour!” A hand firmly plants itself on Trevor's shoulder. “Who'da thunk I'd be seeing you here” 

Remembering his social training, T curls around slow to face the man he can only recall to being the annoying piece of shit across the street from him and Michael, the peach-faced mother fucker with a nose in everyone's business and a hankering for lamb ribs on a Tuesday. 

“Darel.” He says, pulling some sort of half arsed smile onto his lips. “I was...just takin' a walk...” 

“Oh! You get in another fight with the hubby? I've been there, well, not with a man but I sure as hell might-as-well have married one!” Darel chuckles, slapping Trev heartedly on the back as he starts slowly coercing the man away from his hiding spot and toward the park gate. 

The taller man doesn't respond, just keeps his awkwardly painful grin plastered on until they reach the entrance and Darel introduce's him to his family and offers him a spot at their table, assuming he's here alone with nothing to do and nowhere else to go since Michael isn't around. 

Trevor does his best to not take the man's assumption as an insult, he's aware that since their relationship became whole again he's been very reluctant to go anywhere unless by Michael's instruction or in his company, yes, Trevor does admit his independence has gone backwards in the last few years, but he puts the responsibility on the overwhelming life changes he and his new unit family have experienced, he refuses to think he's made his lover the centre of his world for the second time, though won't deny there is some rational fear of coming home and finding himself abandoned once more. 

Call it paranoia, or call it rightful speculation, Trevor feels he has every right to be clingy and unwilling to part from Michael given their past circumstances, his therapist has had a good few remarks to make on such a sensitive topic already, and god knows he doesn't need a repeat given by some idiot with crooked teeth and a torso wider than his own front door. 

Darel's wife and their recently extended brood offer their neighbour a nice welcome, insisting he take the seat in the middle of them and rest his feet, even if the trip was less than a mile and a half's stroll from the house to the park. 

Trevor declines, mentally wincing at their audible disappointment which they all express in one large sheet of noise. 

“You're not being humble, Mr. De Santa” Janet bats her short eyelashes at him. 

Janet, the fat man's wife, to T's amazement is a good deal thinner than her beast of a husband, looking at her he silently ponders how the two of them accomplished conceiving the latest addition to their family when just sleeping beside the man holds the risk of being smothered by his considerable stomach girth. 

Another thing he wonders is how someone so pretty and young could go for a partner twice her own age and size, Janet sits in front of him, at thirty-three years old, one hundred and fifty pounds with luscious curves, stunning blonde hair and emerald green eyes, Trevor can hardly spot any flaws on her pale, doll-like skin as she continues to encourage him to sit beside her and talk about his day. 

“I—i can't. I'm here for the dog thing.” Janet casts him a weary look which culminates into something close to the acknowledgment of his lie but gazing across him she widens her eyes and grins eagerly. 

Handing her newborn to one of her older children, Janet stands up and gestures toward the charity set up. 

“You're here to adopt?!” She clasps her hands together and hops in place, her fingers curling into fists at the end of it which she shakes giddily, exposing her teeth in a crazed grin. “Yeeee-essss! Take that, Sophie!” 

“-Cuse me?” Trevor quirks an eyebrow. 

“Nothing” She giggles, straightening herself. “Just super excited to see our pups reach their forever-home” 

Shaking off some of her enthusiasm, Janet takes Trevor's forearm in a chokehold and leads up over to the charity table to announce his interest in adopting one of their animals. 

Out of nowhere a man pops up from underneath, he's temporarily overcome by the sight of Trevor's chest just inches from his delicate, cage fighter with a slash of woodland elf features, from a quick scan T dubs him no more than his early twenties, the sort of person you'd see hanging around a disco bar hoping one of the older patrons will stop, take a fancy to him and buy the guy a drink since nobody on this god damn earth will believe he's just barely made it passed the age limit to consume alcohol. 

Trevor puts his focus on the man's floof of dark green hair, ignoring his grunt but smooth flowing foreign accent. 

“Mr. De Santa, this is my assistant, Melvin,” Janet says, all but shoving him into the others space to initiate a handshake. 

“Work Colleague” He corrects her subtly. 

The two exchange pleasantries and the smaller male hastily nabs a clipboard and pen off the table before asking for Trevor's details. 

“It's Mr Philips, and I'm just here to take a browse, ain't said nothin' bout adopting” Trevor grumbles, gently moving the clipboard into Melvin's sweater shielded chest. 

“We have plenty-o pups needin' adoption, Mr Philips. We only brought a couple outta the shelter, there be plenty more if you wanna head down there after the event” Melvin scurries beside him, pushing his feet beyond their limits in his polished black loafers to keep a steady pace with Trevor. 

As if god's decided to throw him a lifeline, Janet's attention shifts toward a small family playing with one of the younger canines through the holes in it's cage, catching their laughter she dismisses herself and makes a beeline for them. 

Using this moment to get rid of the new source of irritation, Trevor leans slightly and winds his fingers into Melvin's turtleneck collar, growling in his ear which has the younger male getting flushed in the face and ever so mildly aroused in all the wrong ways. 

He lets out a little squeak as Trevor gets close to his face, snarling hot puffs of air as he says -

“If you wanna live to see your balls grow hair you'll turn around, scribble on your little piece-a paper and tell that she-devil that I ain't interested” Still gripping the other's collar Trevor uses his free hand to wipe his face, groaning from the headache building behind his temples. 

He lets Melvin go with a shove and walks on, furthering the distance hoping to get to the other side of the park grounds before Janet can finish bombarding the second group with false information on a dog that's probably never seen a good meal or speck of love in its pathetic life before handing them a leash and throwing it in their car to piss all over the seats. 

Realising he's now dead centre of the display area Trevor looks around at the cages and the dogs inhabiting them, feeling a pang of sentiment at to the resemblance to jail cells and the criminals he used to walk passed as he was escorted back to his own by the handsy guard. 

He can put a prisoners face to every animal in front of him, even compare scars and the level of abuse they must've suffered before their inevitable capture. 

Trevor walks on, wanting to get up the street and back to the place he tells himself is home even though it doesn't have the damp walls and angry rednecks yelling at him to stop sleeping with their wives, or Ron darting back and forth getting him cups of coffee or the new issue of handicaps erotica. 

Home is where the heart is, and his heart is wherever Michael is, stupid as it might sound in his mind. 

“Eh!” His march is suddenly brought to a halt, in his path is an open cage and a large, bitch faced Doberman resting on a makeshift bed whilst those leaving the park stop and give him a treat for letting them pass. 

On top of the canines cage reads 'Toll-booth', One treat to exit. One to return'. 

It's a joke that the community seems to be taking quite seriously given the day. 

Each and every person leaving stops to crouch down and place a treat in the dog's bowl which he obediently waits to devour. 

Trevor snorts, weighing the option of doing the same by throwing down a chair and demanding a can of beer from anyone who desires to leave. 

He shakes his head, deciding against it and tries to leave without paying the toll, he is about to pass the dog when a tubby, smug looking pug daintily scuttles beside him and away, the larger dog spots it and begins to stand, letting out a thunderous bark before giving chase. 

Trevor stays still as the Doberman blocks the entrance, glaring in the presence of the pug who just stares back with an expression he can only match to that of someone who really couldn't give a flying fuck. 

The big dog huffs, the pug hops a turn and moves it's back legs, kicking up ice into its opponents face. 

The Doberman shakes itself wildly and lowers it's head, as if warning the other to pay up or get back , the pug lowers it's own head, using it's teeth to pluck a toy from outside one of the other dogs cages and heaves itself and the toy toward the bigger dog, the pug lands and lets go of the ragdoll made of rope and rubber, it watches the Doberman wag it's tail and chase after it before brushes it's paws on the ground and moving off again. 

Sadly, Janet arrives just in time to grab him and whisk the pug back to its cage where it appears to have picked the god damn lock with its mouth. 

Having seen it all play out, Trevor follows Janet until he's right up behind her, hand on her shoulder with the creepiest fucking smile she's ever seen on anyone's lips before. 

“So uh, you talk to Melvin yet. Cus he might've been given the impression I was havin' second thoughts” She turns, still holding the pug which is looking up at Trevor curiously, though also with a hint of defeat after having it's escape halted by the blonde bombshell. 

Cautiously he stretches out a hand and gives the pug a scratch behind its ear, it struggles for a minute and then relaxes into it, trying to turn to lick Trevor's wrist as it's tiny leg spasms against Janet's arm. 

“You want this little guy?” She says, presenting the dog as she would her own baby. 

“Gift wrapped” Trevor replies. “And uh, how bout you throw in that cage-a his, need somethin' for the hubby to sleep in” 

Shushing her before Janet can say another word, the two head over to the table where Melvin is told to fill out some paperwork and doesn't dare to mention Trevor's earlier conversation with him. 

Quickly and quietly, the pug is handed over and his documents to be taken back to the shelter for registering, Trevor takes no time in hurrying away from the Doberman that is still gnawing on the chew toy the pug distracted it with, and people leaving the park beginning to ignore the toll sign as they slip through the gate as he does. 

“You're one sassy little shit. I like that”  
\-----

“Ohhh Miiiiiikkeeee!” Trevor sings as he opens the front door, toeing off his boots as he stumbled through the hall. 

“Be down in a sec, T” His partner calls from the bathroom. 

“Come see the baby” 

“We don't have a baby---” Michael's on the second to last step, leaning over the railing as his hand ruffles a towel over his hair signaling he's just come out of the shower. 

Sentence cut short he rounds the bottom of the stairs and strides toward Trevor who is beaming at him like a fucking idiot. 

Michael is understandably dumbstruck as T raises the dog to his face, cooing softly. 

“Say hi to Daddy, Porkchop” 

The pug gives an audible sniff before shaking in disapproval, demanding he be put back into the folds of T's jacket. 

“Why'd you bring home a dog? More to the point: Where'd you go that enabled you to buy a dog?!” Michael asks finally, wrapping the towel around his shoulders.

“Park” The taller man answers, not giving any real indication as to why or how. 

“You bought this dog...at the park. From who?!” 

“Janet” 

“Darel's wife. Why would you--” 

“She asked me if I wanted to adopt a pupper, I adopted a pupper, Mikey” Trevor tries to distract Michael by swaying side to side while cradling the pug, making pupper eyes of his own believing it will lesson his husband's anger. “For charity” 

“When have you ever been charitable? And when have you ever liked animals, aside from on your plate?!” 

Michael closes his eyes to stop himself having to look at T's frighteningly large and glassy ones, he turns around and spots the dog cage with a bed inside, the bag of toys and food bowls with some cans of wet chow to tide the animal over until they see a vet about his regular diet. 

Michael doesn't want a dog because until now he hasn't owned a dog in close to seven years, he's done with pets, he can't take the stress or the tumbleweeds of fur embedded into the good furniture. 

But hearing Trevor's soft coos and kissy noises as he lavishes affection on the ugly little creature is wreaking havoc on Michael's worn out heart-strings. 

Just because it disgusts him when T acts that way with Michael shouldn't mean it has the same reaction when he does it with small creatures, daring to look back he covers his mouth in awe of his partner rubbing his and the pugs noses together, Michael getting a split second flash of the pug being a future grandchild which makes the idea suddenly a thousand times less easy to ignore. 

Damn him for being human. 

Damn Trevor for being so fucking adorable! 

“You-uh, already got everythin' you need?” Michael signs with a drop of his shoulders. 

“Just gotta take this sass master to the vet on Thursday and get him chipped”

Michael bends his head back, huffing tiredly, he knows he's lost and the battle hasn't even started yet. 

“...Fuck me...fine” 

“You wanna do it now? In front of little porkchop?” 

Wordlessly Mike turns his head and leers at Trevor, the fire behind his eyes is intense enough to have the man giggling and taking the dog into the yard to show it where it'll be pissing for the foreseeable future. 

Alone, Michael stands in the kitchen, watching his partner and their new dog through the window.

 

“When did I become such a pushover?” 

the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to comment and leave kudos and constructive advice on how to better these fics. 
> 
> I'll catch you guys on the flip side, Piece. L.M out!
> 
> Ps: I have reopened my instagram so if ya'll wanna hit me up and see some super cool pics of Los Santos/sims/myuglyassface, just ask and I'll give you the URL.


End file.
